


Jumpers

by sprstarinfrance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-11
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-04 07:59:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1771612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprstarinfrance/pseuds/sprstarinfrance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katie can't stop obsessing over Oliver's jumpers and its all George Weasley's fault.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jumpers

**Author's Note:**

> This is a old thing I had back on my ff.net account like a billion years ago, but it's always been one of my favorites, so now it's here.

It was all George Weasley’s fault.

He hadn’t needed to point out that I fancied Wood, because now that he has, all I can do is stare at him, which is useless when quidditch isn’t involved, because seriously, if he caught me staring he’d say something, and the last thing I need is for someone to tease me with that. Namely George Weasley.

Staring at Wood is proving to be a useless hobby, for example right now he is going on about some play against the Slytherins next week, and all I can think about his clothes. I mean, Wood isn’t bad looking or anything, but for the love of Merlin he cannot dress himself. He wears these awful jumpers with khakis and trainers. Someone needs to tell him that you cannot wear trainers with jumpers and khakis. Abby could tell him tell that and she’s only nine. He is never going to get a girlfriend if he dresses like that; especially given the fact that quidditch is one and only true love.

So I’m thinking about what other clothes he should be wearing, and the thought of him in his knickers pops into my head, and for a majority of his speech all I can do is think about it. You know with those muscles he obviously hides under the hideous jumpers he wears. That only makes it worse, and I can feel my ears burning, so I groan, and with my luck it’s loud enough that the rest of the team hears it, including Oliver Wood who glares at me, “What is it Katie?”

You know with being embarrassed and all I do the one-thing women in my family are famous for when guy we like are involved. We get wordy. It’s really not any wonder most of them have ended up single, or divorced in my mum’s case.

“I’m just bored. Does this tangent have an ending point?”

I don’t know how I, Katie Bell, aged fourteen, barely five feet tall, can anger Oliver Wood, seventeen, nearly six feet that much. Because no one else on the team can get him that red in the face, and enough that the rest of the team is glaring at me, because he’s going to take it out on them later.

“Fine. Laps, since Bell is bored.” He only calls me that when I’ve managed to irate him enough. If you think I’m only this rude to him only because I’ve recently started fancied him, your wrong. Mr. Wood and I have always had this relationship. Only me knowing I fancying him now am going to make it worse.

He pulls me aside after the rest of the team shuffles thought groaning and sending me death glares. Except for George Weasley who is winking because he has this teacher punishes bad student sex fancy of the two of us in his mind.

Wood is looking all serious at me, so I roll my eyes as if standing close enough to him that I can smell his shampoo is a great waste of my time.

“Katie, is there a reason you have chosen to hate me so much?” He’s asked me this question before I always come up with some reason that leaves him speechless because it makes no sense, or red in the face because it pissed him off. I think he’s dead set on trying to weed out my aggressions so we can do some sodding team building exercises or something.

It’s usually the truth, for example today. “Your jumpers.”

He laughs because I’m sure he hasn’t noticed how awful they are. “My jumpers?”

“They are hideous. Does you mum still dress you?”

Today he would be red in the face. “My jumpers are hideous?!”

I roll my eyes again before leaving him there with the revelation that he needs new jumpers. “Can you just fire your designer so we can get on with practice?!”

Wood makes this noise that sounds like a pregnant dragon in labor and stomps off. George is red in the face from all the laughing he has been doing during the entire conversion. I'm going to sodding kill him.


End file.
